Each cloud was a different shape. But each shape reminded him of her. He remembered the pain on her face as he left, claiming they were too different. And yet, a year later, he was the one in pain. Everything in his life was a reminder – including the ever-present clouds he had taken to staring at. That one looked like a coffee mug; she had loved the drink, especially when he attempted to make it for her. And that one looked like the lioness that he loved about her personality. Oh, and worst of all, the one directly above him was in the shape of an M, like the emblem of the Ministry of Magic, the very thing that had brought them together. He sighed, remembering how their relationship had grown, only to be broken by his own stupidity.
Suddenly the sky got very dark, but then he realized it was because a person was leaning over him. A person with a lot of bushy hair.
"Hermione," he breathed.
"Malfoy, what are you doing?"
"Losing my mind, apparently, because you can't be here."
"I am here, and I came to talk to you."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I can go, if you want…"
"NO! Please stay here."
"I wanted to tell you that I'm getting married."
His heart felt like it had been ripped out.
"To who? Tell me it's not the Weasel."
"His name is Ron, and yes, it is."
"WHY?"
"Because I love him, Draco, and it's none of your business anyways. I only came to tell you because I thought you should hear it from me instead of somebody else."
He only sat there, speechless.
"Well, I should be going. Goodbye, Draco."
He still couldn't find the words to say anything, so he just watched her leave. He lay back down on the grass, and with tears in his eyes, lost himself in the clouds.